


Forever and Almost Always

by starkercrossedlovers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Drunk Sex, Emotional Sex, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkercrossedlovers/pseuds/starkercrossedlovers
Summary: Tony and Peter keep coming together, over and over again, but Tony pretends like it isn't happening and it's breaking Peter's heart.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 1
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The formatting on this first chapter is whack because it was from tumblr, so please excuse that lol

  * The universe is restored, but it’s never the same. In Peter’s little part of it, May is gone and Ned’s an orphan and MJ doesn’t talk anymore and though the world keeps on spinning, it feels darker now
  * He moves into the tower with the remaining Avengers, proximity breeding a sense of family that he’s desperate for, heart aching at the empty spots at the dinner table or the aborted sentences when someone who is gone comes up.
  * It’s painful and the worst part is knowing that no one else who was missing remembers what happened while they were in the soul realm. He does though. He knows. And he sees it in Tony’s eyes, every time the older man looks at him.
  * He’s been in love with Tony Stark for about as long as he can remember. Childish love at first, hero worship, and then, as he got to know and worked with the man, it deepened into something stronger, truer, and when it remained one sided it hurt, just a little bit, each time he breathed
  * Every smile and touch makes his heart ache with longing, echoing inside him forever, hoping that it means more than it really does, hoping that Tony loves him, sees him not just as a kid, but a man who had done battle against a Titan and sacrificed everything, just as Tony had
  * Peter wakes up everyday, hoping that today will be the day that Tony cares about him like he wants him to, but the older man treats him as he always did, if anything, he’s more protective.
  * Tracking and monitoring go back into the suit and Tony’s in his ear constantly while he patrols, checking in, making sure he’s ok, voice low and concerned, the faint sound of ice clinking on glass in the background.
  * _Be safe kid_ it’s a mantra Tony murmurs every time he goes out, as if the superstition of it will be enough to keep him unharmed
  * Tony drinks too much, too often. His smiles are fake and his eyes are tired and his face has more lines than it used to, but Peter sees the beauty in those eyes, in the lines around them, and his heart breaks every time Tony makes a self deprecating joke or pours another drink
  * “S’rry Pete…shoulda… just…wasn’t fast nough,” Tony slurs as Peter hauls him to bed, going still when Tony pulls him into an unexpected embrace. His arms wind around Peter’s waist and he buries his face in his stomach, soft hitching breaths the only sign that he’s crying
  * Tears burn in Peter’s eyes as he strokes Tony’s head, “it’s ok Tony, shh, it’s okay.” The older man burrows further into him, hands fisted in the material of his shirt, clinging desperately to him as though he’s going to disappear—again.
  * Peter can feel his hot breath through the thin cotton of his Henley, sending a shiver over his sensitive skin and he wishes it didn’t make him _feel,_ that he doesn’t wonder what that breath would feel like agaisnt bare skin…
  * “ _Not_ ok…not…I-I…you _died_ ,” Tony gasps, “was my fault,” he mumbles, repeating it over and over again
  * _My fault my fault my fault_
  * Peter swipes a shaky hand across his cheeks, swiping away the tears that have fallen and runs his fingers through Tony’s hair
  * “I forgive you Tony,” he whispers, because even though he doesn’t think it’s Tony’s fault—he never would—the older man _does_ and needs to hear that he’s forgiven. So Peter gives him that, washes him clean with his absolution and when Tony sobs harder, Peter has to wipe away more tears of his own
  * He presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead when the older man quiets, smiles softly as he pushes him back into the covers and pulls his shoes off so he’s comfortable and then…and then Tony whispers…
  * “You know I love you, right?”
  * Peter freezes, sure he’s heard wrong. Laughs awkwardly. “Yea, course Mr. Stark, love you too man.” He winces at the forced casualty of his voice, hopes Tony buys it, wishes that he won’t…
  * “No, c’mere,” Tony grumbles, tugs on Peter’s hand and pulls him down; Peter half falls over Tony, one hand braced against his chest, the other still in that tight grasp
  * Tony leans up, eyes unfocused and breath stinking of whiskey, “I wanted…wanted to die” he rasps, “when you were…gone.”
  * _Gone_ as though that’s an accurate description of him _dying_
  * Tony laughs sharply, “Almost did…shoulda…” he muses, “waste of a life…shoulda been Steve ‘stead of me.”
  * The agony in his voice rips into Peter’s guts and punches the air from his lungs. “No, Tony, _no,_ ” he gasps, “I need you.” Tony scoffs and Peter grabs his chin in a firm grip, “Tony, I need you. The world needs you. Don’t dare leave me.”
  * They stare at each other and then Tony lurches up to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated and tasting like alcohol, but Peter doesn’t care, he’ll take it, even if it’s wrong
  * Tony pulls him down, hungry and desperate and rolls so Peter is under him, breathing heavily as he kisses over Peter’s jaw, seemingly unaware of what he’s whispering into Peter’s skin
  * _Need you baby, love you, don’t go, don’t go again Peter_
  * Peter clings to him, tears in his eyes while Tony professes his love over and over again and his beard rubs into his sensitive skin, teeth leaving marks over his throat. Tony rocks his hips into Peter’s, their cocks grinding together until they’re both breathless
  * _Come on Pete, need you, need you, love you sweetheart, god, love you so much_
  * It’s simultaneously the best and the worst moment of his life because Tony’s drunk and Peter knows he likely won’t remember this in the morning, but _god,_ it feels so good, _finally_ having Tony’s hands and lips all over him, so he takes and takes and takes, even as it shatters him
  * Tony sucks a dark mark onto his collarbone and grinds his hips down, moaning Peter’s name as he pants in his ear, begging Peter to cum, begging him not to leave, half sobs when Peter’s hands fist in his hair and pull him closer
  * He gives Tony everything he can, lets him have this, because even if it’s just the alcohol, he’s not going to say no to Tony whispering _I love you_ into his skin. It’s selfish, but he died for this, and he’s not going to let him go now.
  * Tony grinds down harder into him and the friction is almost painful on his cock, but he spills into his jeans anyway, whimpering Tony’s name as Tony keeps rolling his hips into Peter, his release just moments later.
  * When Tony collapses on Peter and presses wet kisses to his throat, he fights back tears and runs his fingers through the silky curls tickling his chin.
  * If this were a fairytale, this would be a promise of a perfect happy ending, but he knows it’s not. People don’t get happily ever after anymore. He imagines that having this is better than nothing, even if it makes him feel like he can’t breathe
  * When Tony falls asleep he wiggles out from under him and just sits on the side of the bed, watching him sleep. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t have the energy for it, so he goes to his own quarters, showers and climbs into his cold and lonely bed
  * Tony says nothing the next morning except to comment on the hickeys that are visible. “Get lucky last night kid?” And Peter debates telling him the truth before pasting on a false smile and shrugging
  * “Sorta. Drunk one night stand kinda thing,” he replies nonchalantly, gaze cast aside so he misses the wounded, confused look on Tony’s face
  * It happens again the next time Tony’s drunk
  * And again
  * And again
  * He never stays in Tony’s room overnight and they don’t talk about it, but but he’s sure that Tony remembers because he doesn’t drink as much some nights, and on those nights, he’s quiet, his professions of love absent
  * Tony will look at him sometimes, and he thinks maybe he’s _finally_ going to say something about what’s been happening, but then he just goes back to working on an engine or pours another drink and his heart sinks, cracks
  * He knows he deserves better, but he doesn’t leave when Tony pulls him into bed, because if this is the only way he can have him, he’ll take it. He’ll take the pain and the emptiness and the hope he knows is false, because he’s lost too much already to loose this too
  * He’ll wait patiently for the day that Tony can love him the way he deserves, and he’s fine, doing it forever, almost, always




	2. Chapter 2

He’s laying with his head on Tony’s bare chest, listening as his heart beats steadily and the arc reactor hums, the sounds soft and reassuring, lulling him to sleep slowly.

He’s exhausted after making lo— _fucking_ , but he knows he needs to go patrol. He’s been slacking lately with his classes at NYU and work and nights in Tony’s bed taking up his evenings.

Slowly, he slips out of Tony’s arms, already missing the warmth as he moves silently down the hall to his room. He suits up and swings out the window, the cool summer air refreshing. As he swings through the city and apprehends bad guys, he realizes how much he’s missed this.

It’s a large part of who he is, but he’s neglected it in lieu of homework and his job in Stark Industries’s lab, but he knows without a doubt this is where he needs to be—not in bed with a man who can’t tell him he loves him unless he’s shit faced.

His gut twists at that and he breathes through the pain, only flinching a little when Deadpool calls his name and plops down on the ledge of the building beside him.

“Heya SpiderDude! Haven’t seen that pretty ass in awhile! Where you been hiding it?”

Despite himself, he smiles. Wade might have a couple screws loose and be a little too okay with murder, but he’s a good man. A good friend even.

Not a bad fuck either.

“Busy with school,” he replies, tugging his mask off so he can feel the cool breeze on his face, smiling faintly when Wade does the same. They sit in companionable silence until Wade clears his throat and asks; “So why aren’t you tucked in bed with Tin Can Man?”

 _Fuck_ Peter should never have told him about the thing with Tony.

“Just needed some air,” he replies nonchalantly.

Wade makes a humming noise and nods thoughtfully, “Sure thing, cuz there’s definitely no air in that penthouse, huh?”

Peter shoots him a glare and looks away, “I don’t wanna talk about it tonight Wade.”

“Coward.”

He’s on his feet before he even knows what’s happening, hands fisted at his sides. “ _Excuse me?”_ he demands through gritted teeth.

Wade just stares up at him, unconcerned. “You love that moron and you’re too scared to do something about it. I bet if you told him how you felt instead of just letting him get drunk and fuck you he’d be yours.”

Peter shakes his head and shoves his mask back on, readying to web away when Wade murmurs softly; “Take it from someone who won’t ever get the person they love back; don’t let him slip away because you’re scared. Being a coward is a lonely thing.”

A lump lodges in his throat but he nods and webs away, on autopilot, barely realizing he’s back in the penthouse till he’s standing in the living area, and Tony’s there in the shadows, nursing a glass of scotch and staring out at the patio where he’d entered from.

It’s a long silent moment before anyone says anything, the tension between them palpable.

“You were gone.”

Peter just nods numbly, because this? This is the closest they’ve come to talking about it.

“I was worried about you.”

And, for some reason, maybe it’s because of what Wade said, he scoffs, suddenly angry. A rush of hurt and anger and love leaves his heart pounding and he’s stepping forward without even meaning to.

“Worried? You were _**worried**_?” he demands incredulously as Tony’s eyes go wide, his throat exposed as he stares up at Peter. He opens his mouth to reply and Peter steps forward again, a sharp hand movement cutting him off.

“No, you know what? You don’t get to be worried. Because you’re clearly not worried about breaking my fucking heart when you get drunk and tell me you love me! And maybe I’ve been selfish and weak for not telling you sooner, but goddamn it Tony, you-you can’t _do_ that! You can’t just-just fuck me and tell me you love me and then pretend it didn’t happen!”

He’s sobbing and he doesn’t even register it because he’s _so_ goddamn angry and hurt.

“If this is love Tony, why does it break me down? Why does it _hurt?”_ he demands, chest hitching with each sob as he tries to keep going. “If you love me, why do you keep breaking me? I can’t-I can’t—”

He can’t speak anymore, too overwhelmed to speak and he turns away, collapsing in on himself as he sobs, shoulders shaking under the weight of the grief inside him. He doesn’t hear it when Tony gets up and comes up behind him, but when those strong familiar arms wrap around him he shatters, and it feels like dying all over again.

 _Dying was easier than this_ he thinks distantly.

He cries until he feels like he’s sobbed out every ounce of sorrow within him, but even when he’s stopped he can’t bring himself to pull out of Tony’s embrace.

“I don’t want to go,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Then don’t.”

“I have to, it’s tearing me apart to be here. If I stay you’ll just break me over and over again.”

There’s a long moment of silence and then lips press to the nape of his neck, cold sweat on his skin chilling him.

“I’m sorry.”

Another kiss

“I don’t want to break you.”

Peter turns slowly in Tony’s arms and stares into shadowy eyes, and he thinks that he’ll never see them again if he goes.

“Kiss me.”

Tony’s brow furrows, “What?”

“Kiss me. If I’m going to go, I deserve one kiss from you that isn’t fueled by alcohol and lies.”

Tony flinches but nods, one hand slipping up to tilt Peter’s chin so he can lean down and kiss him. It’s gentle and sweet and he can’t stand it. He fists Tony’s T-shirt and yanks him closer, demanding more with his teeth and tongue until they’re plastered together, moaning and grabbing at each other desperately.

He shoves Tony down onto the couch and follows him, straddling him so he can roll his hips down, biting too hard on Tony’s lip so he tastes copper, but the other man doesn’t protest, just groans into the embrace and kisses him back equally as fierce.

Yanking the sweatpants from Tony’s hips, he fumbles with the retractor for his suit, grunting when it slips off his skin and can be tossed aside. It’s a breath of time between kisses along Tony’s neck that he can get his briefs off and reach for the lube they’ve started keeping handy in all the rooms.

He rushes the prep, wincing through it as Tony sucks on his nipple, large hands on his waist. He’s too impatient to slow down, slicking up Tony’s cock before he slides down, gasping at the hot burn, but he keeps going, his healing factor close behind to ease the ache into something more pleasant.

“Fuck kid, gonna hurt yourself,” Tony gasps as Peter forces himself down the thick length. “Slow down,” he murmurs, hands firm on his hips, “let me help.”

Peter slaps his hands away and rocks down, moaning at the stretch and glaring at Tony, “I don’t…don’t need your help,” he spits, rolling his hips as he starts to ride Tony and then—then neither of them are objecting.

Tony groans his name and holds onto his hips, head thrown back against the couch, eyes dark and hungry as he watches Peter ride him. There’s a look of adoration on his face that makes Peter feel like his chest is going to crack open and spill out his heart at Tony’s feet and it makes him so goddamn mad, because this man already has his heart—and he never even took care of it.

Tears build in his eyes as he thinks that this will be the _last_ time he has Tony, that it’s the _first_ time Tony’s ever been sober for it, and this time he sobs, screwing his eyes shut when Tony reaches up and cups his cheek.

“Baby, baby, don’t, please, Pete, just, please look at me.”

Shaking his head petulantly, he rocks harder, trying to distract himself with pleasure, but Tony’s soft voice makes his breath catch in his throat when the older man gasps, “I love you Pete, please look at me, please.”

“Don’t!” he orders sharply, eyes flashing open as he slaps a hand over Tony’s mouth, “Don’t say it now. Not when you don’t mean it.”

But then Tony pulls his hips away and slips out of Peter and a louder sob breaks out of him at the loss. His eyes shutter as he cries, trying to push away even as Tony holds onto him tighter.

“Pete, listen to me. I know it’s scary, I know I didn’t say it before when I should have, but sweetheart, I love you.”

The scariest part is letting go and trusting, and it makes him want to pull away, put his suit back on and run, but then _**coward**_ echoes in his head, Wade’s voice mocking and he opens his eyes slowly, still crying, and stares down at Tony.

His eyes are soft as he gazes back at Peter, one hand cupping his jaw so he can run his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone, the motion soothing. “Peter, all of the steps that led me to you, as broken and meandering as they were, all of the hell I had you walk through, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice hoarse as tears glisten in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say it sober?” Peter demands, wiping at his tears, shivering in Tony’s arms as he waits for his answer.

“Because I’m a bastard, and I’m weak. I lost you once and I-I wanted you, loved you, _love_ you—but I couldn’t let myself say it out loud or it would be real and it being real meant that I could hurt you, that you could hurt me if you left, if something happened to you.”

“Well you still hurt me.”

Tony nods slowly, “And I’ll spend every day trying to make that right if you’ll let me. I love you Peter, and I’m so so sorry I didn’t say it sooner,” he murmurs earnestly, hope shining in his eyes so brightly it hurts to look at.

Peter glances away, chewing his lip. He loves Tony. He can’t deny that. But he’s not so sure he trusts him, and if he’s ever going to love him fully, he’s going to have to figure out how to trust him again.

“I…I love you. But I, I don’t think we should do this until I trust you not to hurt me like that again.” Tony meets his gaze steadily and nods, smiling faintly.

“Of course. Can I, will you let me take care of you tonight?” Peter stiffens and Tony runs a soothing hand up his thigh, “A bath, sweetheart, and maybe letting me hold you?” he explains.

He weighs it for a minute—he still so hurt, it a very large part of him wants Tony to hold him, wants the security of his arms—and then nods, gasping softly when Tony gathers him in his arms and carries him to the master suite. He doesn’t let go of him while they bathe, when he pulls one of his old pairs of sweatpants up Peter’s legs, or when they get into his enormous bed.

He’s almost asleep when he feels Tony’s lips against his temple. “Love you,” Tony whispers against his skin and he smiles, snuggling into the warmth of his arms.

* * *

##  **One year later**

“You did _not_ have to do this,” Peter laughs, gazing wide eyed at the full breakfast on a tray that Tony’s setting on his lap.

The older man gives him a serious look, “Yea, I do Pete. I told you a year ago I’d spend every day trying to make what I did right, and I meant it.”

Peter softens and leans up for a kiss, “I know babe, but I forgave you. I love you and you’ve shown me every day that you’re sorry, that you love me, that I can trust you.”

Tony smiles softly and slides into bed next to him, lifting a strawberry for him to bite into, eyes sparkling with pleasure. “Love you too sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning in for a kiss so he can taste the sweetness of the fruit on Peter’s lips.

They make love when the food is gone, Tony rocking into him slow and steady, forarms braced by Peter’s head, chest pressing into his so they’re as close as they can be. Peter moans and buries his fingers in Tony’s hair, pulling him in for a breathless kiss, arching his hips to take him deeper.

“Love you,” Tony gasps against his lips, “god, I love you so much Pete.”

Tears burn in his eyes at the tenderness in Tony’s voice, just how much he’s loved _so_ apparent.

He can feel his release building within him, the heat in his belly growing with each thrust, a whine coming from the back of his throat as Tony reaches between them to stroke his cock, encouraging him as it twitches and spills hot over his hand.

Peter writhes as Tony keeps stroking him, his thrusts growing harder as he chases his own release and attempts to wring another from his body. It burns, deeply, down into his bones, marking him, branding him for Tony and when the older man gasps hotly in his ear and cums inside him, he can’t help but cum again with a sharp cry.

Limbs trembling, he holds on to Tony desperately as their hips roll together, chasing sensation until it’s too much. When Tony tries to roll off him, he holds him firmly in place, careless of the sweat and cum sticking to their skin.

Their breathing is loud in the quiet of the room, the faint sound of traffic rising up from the ground to float through the open windows and gauzy curtains. It’s early summer, still cool in the mornings, but he can feel the pressure of the air changing, the heat incoming.

It feels like it might rain later, the promise of a thunderstorm electric in the air and sharp on his tongue.

Running his fingers through Tony’s damp hair, he smiles softly. Maybe if it storms they can watch it together, watch the sky turn purple and electric up here where the tower reaches toward the sky and the heavens are just a little closer to his reach.

Tony presses a kiss to his throat and makes a soft noise, breathing evening out as he grows sex sleepy, content in Peter’s arms.

“Love you Pete.”

Peter smiles and turns his chin to press a kiss to his temple.

“Love you too sweetheart.”

He remembers something May told him once, suddenly.

_Love isn’t easy Peter. People mess up and break your heart and you have to decide if you love them enough for that pain be worth it. You have to be willing to work through the stormy times and fight for each other, otherwise, what you have, it isn’t love._

A distant rumble of thunder makes him smile as he closes his eyes; there’s a storm coming.

But he’s not worried—he’s found a love that can weather it.

Bring on the rain.


End file.
